Tuesday, October 19, 2010

I have something to share with you.
A little leap I've been trying to grow the balls to take in pursuit of a more fulfilling life and someday, career.
Something I have an huge interest in, and a desire to learn more and more about.
Having spent the past few months pouring over websites, gorging on book after book, and soaking in all the information I can, I have made a decision.

I am going to become, a Doula.

That may seem like small change, but to me, it's bigmassivebills.
I've spent the last eight years of my life at the same job. I never, ever would have thought that I would have the courage and ambition to anything other than what I have been for almost a decade! I just didn't. I love my job (and won't be leaving it any time soon...) and change and transitions, well, they make me nervous.

I just feel so, so driven to do this. For me. Just for me.

But, it's a big step.

When I was nearing the end of my high school years, the ever present question among the adults in my life was, "So, what college are you going to go to?"

After hearing that over and over and over again, I stubbornly made the decision to never further my education and prove to them all that I could have a great career and life without stepping foot onto a college campus.

Well, I proved them. My family bought a cafe and my sister and I ran it when we were 15 and 17 years old. We owned and worked that little shop for six solid years. And now, we sold it and are still working there, with a paycheck on Friday, and without the headache on Monday.

But now, with two nephews and a third un-gendered-as-of-yet on the way, birth, to me, is absolutely captivating. And I can't get enough of it! Seriously, mention meconium, mucous plugs, membranes, cervical positioning, posterior, anterior, placentas, or bowel stimulation...and I'm a happy, happy lady. Possibly a happy lady who will go on a crazy-girl tangent, but, nonetheless...

Someday, I'm going to wrap my arms around a laboring mama and whisper encouragement into her ear.

I'm going to watch a couple become parents for the first time.

I'm going to watch a big sister or big brother add a new little nugget of life to their world to terrorize and love endlessly.

And maybe there will be bloody shows and amniotic fluid splashed in my direction, but darn-it, there will be babies!

So, that's where I'm at. In the beginning stages of becoming a real life doula.

And I'm so, so pumped.

I hate to say it, but, you will probably hear even less of me in the next few months as all of my online and free time will be in study. And I know I've already been a shoddy blogger at best. But, can you imagine the stories I'll have once those swollen pregnant mammas start rolling (figuratively) in??

I can't wait, and I do hope you'll understand. I will still post here and there, but I might have to put this little blog here on the furthest back burner for awhile.

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Apparently I talk in my sleep.
I wasn't made aware of this spectacular talent of mine until after I was married and shared a sleeping space with another human.
A light sleeping human.

Thank God for sacred wedding vows until death do us part, because without them, I might have frightened my bedfellow away and back into a bachelor's domain.

There was one night, when in a fitful slumber, I snatched my husbands pillow from under his sleepy head and yelled,"That's MY pillow!"
Contentedly happy and dreaming my cares away on two overstuffed pillows, I slept peacefully, while my poor husband rested his head on a solid, cold mattress.

Another night, after a day of heavy cleaning, I crept out of bed in the middle of the night, walked across the room and started tossing clothes left and right. My tired husband woke to the ruckus and asked what I was doing. In a pissy, 'mind your own business' voice, I replied,"I'M CLEANING!"
sigh, humph, mutter."Well, actually, I'm not cleaning, I'm organizing."
toss. throw. slump."You know what, just don't even ask."
And then I sulked back to bed, turning my back on him because 'he just didn't get it'.

During our bathroom remodel, after pulling out flooring, sinks, toilets, tubs, drywall, plaster, wallpaper, etc, etc, I had another sleeping 'moment'. We had the help of my little brother that day to tear down the plaster and lathe. He did a mighty good job, that boy. I must have thought so, because his great work made me dream and walk a fury that night...

At an ungodly hour during slumber-time, I sat up in bed, tore the covers off and stared at the wall. My husband, growing accustomed to this charade, sighed and asked what I was up to.

I turned to the wall, swept my hand across it's embossed wallpaper and said,"I know. We'll have the kids do it."

Wiping sleep from his eyes, my husband replied,"What??"

"We'll have the kids do it. They know how to do it right. You see? The last owners didn't know how to do it right and that's why we had to do it. We have to do it right this time."

"Honey, you're asleep. Go to bed."

"NO. I promise you, I am not asleep right now. Here, let me show you how to do it right. I'll just go grab the crowbar..."

"Um. No. You need to go to sleep, you're asleep right now, just lay back down..."

"NO! I. AM. NOT. ASLEEP. I PROMISE!"

"Go to sleep."

With a huge and overly dramatic sigh, I slumped back into bed and said with all the sass I could sleepily muster,

"Fine. But you're going to feel very silly tomorrow morning when you realize I am not asleep right now."

As you probably guessed, the next morning when I went downstairs to greet my husband and his steaming cup of coffee, he had a smirk like the Cheshire Cat himself.

With a light kiss I asked,"How did you sleep, babe?"

Jaw dropping and walking away he replied,"Well, I slept like crap, but I sure don't feel silly this morning."

And, in a rush, it all came back to me.

In conclusion, I think that my subconscious dream state is trying to tell me something.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

During our bathroom remodel, I was in charge of picking up the new toilet from Lowes.

We had already picked it out, so all I had to do was convince my mom to drive me out there, show someone what I wanted, pay, and then load it into her car.

Easy.

I walked into the store, cool, collected, and savvy.

Every few aisles, a friendly store clerk would politely ask if I was in need of assistance.

"Why, no thank you, I know exactly what I need!"

I would reply with confidence.

Once I crossed the store and reached the plumbing section, I quickly realized I was in need of assistance as there was no way I could carry the box of disassembled toilet all the way to the register and out to the car.

No matter. From around the corner, another friendly clerk sprang out in front of me to ask if I needed help.

"Why, yes thank you. I'll be needing someone to load this into the car!"

Quick as a whip, we were at the register and ready to pay.

As I was swiping my credit card, the nice boy manning the register asked,

"Now, where are we putting this?"

Feeling very proud of myself at this point, I matter-of-factly replied,

"Oh! We're going to be putting this in the bathroom!"

Silence.

Wait...did I hear crickets?

Why is he looking at me like that?

Is he confused?

What did I say?

Doh.

"Ohhh...you mean which car are we putting this in?"

He nods.

Then smirks.

"Right. Okay. It's the white Vibe parked out front. But, just for the record, we were thinking of putting this sucker in the living room. You know, make things easier...less distance to travel when we gotta go? Erhm, please just forget I said that, okay?!?"

Red as a beet and dragging my pride behind me, I darted out of the store without meeting the eyes of anyone in my path.

Okay, seriously...scroll back up and look at that disgusting-ness again.

Dis.freaking.usting.

And it's not like we just didn't clean it. We did! A lot! It wouldn't get clean!

The floors were damaged from water and the super-cute-blue-checkered-linoleum was curling at the edges. We could only go two days after a good, deep clean before mildewy grossness started creeping up in all the corners because there was no air flow whatsoever. Unless you count the exhaust fan that, when you flipped the switch, would do nothing, not even turn on, for at least a good ten minutes. When you went to turn it off however, it kept running for maybe an hour.

And our toilet seat...uffda!

What an embarrassingly noisy cushioned disaster that was...

*Sit*...Poof! fsssssssssshhh!

But this...ahhhhhh...

Can't you just smell the lavender from the bath salts you know I'm gonna toss in there tonight??

So, anyway, before I make you too jealous...

That was our summer.

We literally tore out our bathroom. Top to bottom.

Floors, walls, ceilings, plumbing, electrical, all completely redone, and all by ourselves with help from family. It was so much work, and I was so not expecting it to be that hard. In retrospect, I have no idea why I didn't think it would be that hard. But when the insulation and plaster were falling down into our eyes, and I was dodging hundred year old nails because I haven't had a tetanus in twenty years, I wanted to cry and wish it all away. I wanted to just close off the unfinished room, forget that we even started it and live with the fact that we would have to continue using this as our restroom...

(This is a toilet that is located in our freaky, creepy basement. We had to use this for almost three weeks.)

It really was miserable.

But, now it's over, and I'm happy.

Stay tuned for pictures of our temporary "shower" and a few embarrassing moments starring yours truly.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Riding my bike by the river today, I felt something hit my head.
I thought it was just someone throwing something at me again...Yes, that happens to me...and more often than I care to admit.

But then I reached up and felt a feathery mass of body.

And I freaked out.

I tried to pedal faster, but my poor bike doesn't do faster.
I think there's only like, one gear. If that.
So my feet did that funny thing, you know, like when you're walking up the stairs in the dark, and you think there's just one more step than there actually is, so you step down too hard and you get that weird sinking feeling in your tummy...yeah, that.

Stupid bird kept diving down, pecking and scratching at my head!

Finally, after about a block, it stopped.
Maybe I hit it. I don't know.

It wasn't until later, when I went to go tell my sister what happened, that I noticed my hair was wet.
BLOOD!
B.L.O.O.D!!
I got freaking owned by a bird!

In hopes that this never happens to me again, I am hear-by offering a public apology to the birds of America...

I'm sorry.
I wasn't making fun of you when I wore this two Halloween's ago...